Shower
by cherishiskisa
Summary: Second in a series of little companion fics to my one-shot "Alterations". Tailor!Cas and businessman!Dean's adventures continue, as Philadelphia's bitchy weather turns on them.


**Hello!**

**Here's one more little companion piece to "Alterations" (and now also "Halloween"). **

**I forgot to mention this in the other one- these were all born through one-word prompts that my original collaborator buddy Sadie gave me. I've got a few more after this one to publish, but those will be up gradually.**

**Again, this won't make a lick'a'sense unless you read "Alterations", I think. Or maybe it will. I don't know.**

**This one is short. Sorry.**

**Anyway, please review if you liked, review if you didn't, and I hope y'all are enjoying this little 'verse of mine!**

* * *

The windshield wipers were working as hard as they could, and Dean, for the first time, was glad he'd listened to Sammy's bitching about how he needed to get new ones a year or so back. Jason was droning down his earpiece about some business report presentation that was overdue, and Dean was just tuning out, hypnotized by the pattern of the raindrops and the lulling sweep of the wipers when a rain-drenched figure trudging along the pavement caught his eye.

Eyes turned skyward, dark hair plastered to a wet forehead, shaking hands shoved uselessly into flimsy pockets of a ridiculously oversized beige trench coat—Castiel.

Dean slammed on the brakes as soon as he leveled with Castiel, saying a hurried, "Hey, I'll call you back later, man" down the phone to Jason before reaching over and rolling the window down. "Cas!" he called. "Hey!"

Castiel jumped, eyes wide under dripping eyelashes. "Dean," he rasped. "Hello, Dean."

He looked miserable—a lost kitten thrown out into the rain to drown. His lips were shaking with cold and he was huddled into himself even more than usual. "The hell are you doing out here?" Dean asked, incredulous.

Castiel shrugged. "I closed up early and wanted to go over to yours. But my bus was late." He sniffled, pulling his coat a little tighter around him. "And then it started to rain."

"Okay, Hemingway," Dean laughed, unlocking the door. "Get in before you get sick."

Castiel frowned. "But I'll get your seats wet," he countered reasonably.

And Dean looked at the interior of the car, leather seats impeccably kept with not a speck of discoloration on them, at how neat the entire car was, remembered how he'd built this car up from the ground and how damn much it meant to him—and then he looked at Castiel. Shivering and forlorn in the rain.

Dean grimly set his jaw, pushed the door open to the rain and the cold and Castiel, and said, "I don't care. Get in."

Castiel's trembling lips curled up into the meekest of smiles, and he slid into the car with a wet shudder, slamming the door behind him. "Thank you," he said feebly, eyes slipping closed as he raised unsteady hands to the heating vents in front of him.

"Here—" Dean reached out to angle the vents better and crank the heat up a few degrees. He pulled the car away form the curb, shooting the huddled, dripping mass in his passenger seat a concerned glance. "How you doin' over there?"

"Fine," Castiel replied automatically, a chill ruffling through his shoulders and belying his words.

Dean made an exasperated sound, extending an arm out and gesturing impatiently for Castiel to move in. "Get over here," he commanded.

Castiel sniffed indignantly. "But I'll get your suit wet."

"But you'll catch pneumonia otherwise," Dean replied snarkily, trying his best to imitate Castiel's sullen tone. "I don't care about my suit, either, Cas. Come here."

Castiel shrugged—though it may have been a shiver—and slid over, clamping onto Dean with wet arms so tightly Dean let out a surprised sound as the breath was knocked out of him.

"Easy, tiger," he laughed, moving his hand up to smooth down Castiel's hair. "Don't make me crash the car."

"Sorry," Castiel mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric of Dean's suit.

"It's fine," Dean cooed, continuing to stroke Castiel's hair. "I'll make you some soup or something when we get home and I'll wrap you up in even more blankets than you're usually wrapped in and you'll warm up in no time."

Castiel sighed gratefully, infinitesimally tightening his hold on Dean. "Why'd you leave work so early, anyway?"

"Same reason you did," Dean grinned. "Was heading to see you. We got let off early since the weather reported 'light showers to extreme flooding in streets', so they wanted to make sure that we all got home safe."

"That's nice," Castiel murmured. "Flooding? Really?"

"Apparently," Dean shrugged. "But we'll be alright on the third floor, I think."

"I think so, too," Castiel agreed, voice concerningly rougher than usual. "But I'm blaming you if we drown."

And Dean smiles at Castiel's quip, lets Castiel play with the radio as much as he wants—and in return, Castiel lets Dean practically carry him up to Dean's apartment and even cracks a weak but endlessly grateful smile as Dean swaddles him in blankets and settles down to watch a Lifetime movie marathon over a couple bowls of soup and tightly intertwined hands.


End file.
